Night at the Pound
by Tramontana Keeper
Summary: Every Edward here has the same sad story. They're all real, they're all unreal, and they're all your brother. Come, pick whichever one you want. After all, that's what he was created for.'
1. Night at the Pound

I don't know where this came from. I was standing there in my room, and suddenly the story just built itself in my mind. (it actually managed to go through a few permutations, very quickly. I've never had a story put itself together so quickly.) Of course, that might mean this is a piece of junk and should be scrapped; I don't know, I couldn't get ahold of my beta.  
So I _am_ looking for constructive feedback on this one- for good or bad.

**Warning: **No anime spoilers, but it's loosely based on the manga, and as such has major references to the Doors. If that doesn't mean anything to you, you might want to watch out.

**Night at the Pound**

It was a dead night. The air was hot and heavy, hugged the ground possessively, doing its best to stifle the lone figure plodding up the path.

His steps were labored, exhaustion fairly radiating from him as he made his way up the hill. His knock was forestalled by the door being flung open, a blond woman framed by the light.

"Al...?" Hope died in her voice just as quickly as it had arisen.

No answer was necessary; the fact that he was still alone said enough, but Al shook his head anyway.

He looked away from the pain in her eyes as he entered the house.

"Nobody knows," Al said dully. "It's the same thing everywhere. 'He was here last month', 'I think he may have passed through'," his fists clenched, "the same _shit._"

Winry answered his unspoken question. "He hasn't called." A pause, then as an afterthought- "Are you hungry?"

"No, I had something earlier." Distracted, he paced around the living room restlessly, aware of her eyes on him, her _accusing_ eyes, then finally collapsed onto a sofa.

"Al," she said, in the determined voice he had become familiar with over the last two months, "tell me what happened."

A thousand ways he had found to push her off, already, but he was running out of ideas. His self-pity, the attempt to hide his sheer stupidity, was wearing thin; already he could feel it cracking under the pressure of the '_she deserves to know_'.

She came closer to him, trying to keep her voice gentle. "Maybe if I know what-"

"You'll _what_?" Al snapped at her furiously. "You think you can change it? You think it'll make him come back?" She was angry at him now, and it hurt, because he knew he deserved it.

A whimper tore out of him, and he buried his face in his hands. "Oh God, it was just a stupid fight. I didn't _know_ he would do...this..."

Now that he had started, he knew he had to finish; thankfully, Winry didn't press. She just stood there quietly, contriving to make her presence somehow comforting.

"It was...ugh. The usual stuff. He was being, well _himself,_ you know? He always thought I couldn't get along without him...I couldn't _live_ with him like that. We've got different lives, I told him. The 'older brother' shtick was getting old...he, pissed me off. I just wanted some time alone, to think things through." Al looked up at her pleadingly, begging for understanding. Everybody's yelled at someone they love, at least once. It wasn't fair that it should end like this.

"I just told him to...get out of my hair for a while."

The words hung in the air, the understatement obvious.

Winry's silence dragged the words out of him better than any remark of hers could have. It _hurt_, feeling so guilty. He wondered if his brother had felt like this over him, and that just made him feel worse.

"...It wasn't in quite such nice words as that," he finally whispered.

Winry sighed, but didn't look surprised. "I figured it was something like that." Her voice was chilly, though not icy, which was comforting. "You know what I think happened to him...?"

Al jerked his head up, staring in shock. She thought she knew? She hadn't _told_ him?

"I think he killed himself."

Shock swept over him, like a wave of icy water. "He didn't."

Her voice was coldly matter of fact, and she refused to look at him. "He _lived _for you, Al. If you told him to bugger off? Well, I guess he would take you seriously."

"_HE DIDN'T!"_ Al hardly realized he was shouting. Of course some part of his mind had considered that possibility, plying him with guilt at every opportunity, but he had squelched it furiously.

"You're never going to find him," Winry said, and now there was an obvious catch to her voice.

"I will," Al swore, "I will."

His mind hazy with rage, he stormed off to his room, hardly aware of Winry's tear-ridden sound of skepticism.

There was a way.

He clapped his hands together, swore, and paced around the room for several minutes. Calm, he thought. He needed to be calm to get it to work. It was dangerous at the best of times.

Ed had done the same for him, though. Ed had risked everything for him. Twice.

The Doors were doors to knowledge...to Truth. Whatever toll it took to get the information to find Ed, he would be willing to pay.

Any toll, he firmly told himself. Anything, just to have him back.

He clapped his hands together, and the world turned white.

* * *

The Doors were there. They struck a chord deep inside his soul, a chord of terror and longing, of joy and unendurable pain. 

And there, right there...

"Brother?" His voice echoed strangely in the nothingness. His brother was sitting there, curled up with his knees to his chest. Edward almost looked like he was sleeping, but there was something...

"Ed!" Al shouted, and made to move towards his brother, but something held him back.

Instinctively, he turned around, ready to wrench away, but was stopped in his tracks by a patch of..._nothing._ Not to be confused with the rest of the Nothing around him, this _nothing_ reminded him vaguely of a human...a hint of a disturbing grin, a silhouette against the Nothing.

_Are you sure that's the one you want?_

"Wha..?" Al tried to wrench away. "Of _course _he's the one I want, he's my brother!"

_Then who...is that?_

He wasn't aware of moving, but suddenly he was looking in another direction, at...another Ed?

It was impossible, his mind screamed at him. It made absolutely no sense, and furthermore, it was bordering on ridiculous. Or something.

"How...?" he stuttered, looking back and forth between the two. They were both undeniably his brother, though there were subtle differences between them...his mind couldn't focus on what they were, but they were _there._

Wrenching away from the _nothing_, he ran towards one of them. "Brother!"

Edward stirred slightly, and looked up blearily. His eyes widened as he saw Al, and he scrambled to his feet, mouth moving, though Al couldn't hear anything.

There was panic in his brother's movement, as he made to run towards him, only to be held back by some invisible barrier around him.

Al stood frozen, watching his brother struggle vainly, despair in his tortured eyes. He didn't have to hear in order to know what the word Edward was crying in a helpless mantra- _Al...Al!_

Unable to stand any more, Al reached toward his brother, but the _nothing_ stopped him once again.

_Are you quite sure that's the right one?_

"Of...of course he is..." Al lowered his arm, slightly. Edward's shoulders slumped, he ducked his head to the side, trying to hide his face, the slight shaking of his body.

It tore at Al to see his brother like that, but he couldn't stop himself from looking back towards the other Ed, still sitting there silently. He stepped back, then another step.

With the loss of proximity, Edward collapsed back into his original curled up position.

Al fled, rushed towards the other Edward- _surely he would know which one was the right one. Nobody knew his brother better than he did._

This time, Edward didn't jump up. He looked up slowly, only raising his head slightly, to meet Al's eyes with his own empty ones. An expression of pain flickered across his face, a look of utter, raw longing. Ed shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, then looked again. This time, it was a muted hope that lit his eyes- he reached forward with one hand, only to be stopped by the barrier. Swiftly, savagely, he clenched his eyes shut and covered his ears, mouth moving silently, _it's another dream, just another dream_.

Horrified, Al backed away, and this Edward relaxed into sleep once again.

"What _is_ this?" he shouted, whirling around, only to see...more. More images of his brother, each one sitting in their own circle, each one bearing subtle differences, and some not-so-subtle.

"Quit playing with me!" He whirled on the _nothing_, furious. "Which one is the real one? I want my brother out of here! What are you doing to him?"

_They're all real. They're all your brother._ _Come, look at them._

Queasy, Al looked around, his stomach sinking. "I don't want to look at them. They're _not_ all real - they can't be! I want _mine_ back!"

_He wasn't good enough for you, though, was he? That's the story of every Edward here. They're all real. They're all equally unreal. These are the Edwards you – and all the other 'you' - have outgrown. Alphonse Elric, you make a harsh creator._

It was definitely a nightmare, Al tried to convince himself. It wasn't even a _good_ nightmare. It made no sense at all. He laughed nervously. "I must be dreaming this," he said aloud. "This is just stupid. Create my brother? That's practically stupider than when I thought he had created _me_ out of nothing."

_Truth cannot lie. Let me tell you of a child...a child born of alchemy, only half-human. A lonely child, with a father he never saw. He dreamed of a brother, an older brother to guide him, to protect him. An older brother to look up to, yet look down on. A brother to be proud of, yet embarrassed of. A perfect brother._

"He _wasn't_ perfect!" Al retorted triumphantly. "If he _had _been, this whole mess would never have..."

_Edward Elric was the perfect brother for a young boy. A young boy, unaware of his own alchemic ability, a boy who unknowingly risked his life to bring his 'brother' from potential to existence. But that boy grew up, and what happened to Edward? _Again, the hint of teeth in the _nothing_.

"I'm not listening. I'm not."

_Let me sell you a brother. He's strong, and smart. He loves you more than anything else, he will always put your well-being above his own. He'll protect you to the best of his abilities, yet rely only on you for support. You're his first, last, and only priority. Do you want a brother like that?_

"No, I-"

_Of course not, you rejected him. Again and again...poor Edward, to have his existence rely on such a fickle thing as your whim, to live only until you grow too old for him. He doesn't even know what he's doing wrong, he can't help but be the way you created him to be._

"But...Granny Pinako, Winry, the General, all those people who know him...some of them knew him since he was a kid!" Al grinned triumphantly. The sweep of his hand encompassed his surroundings. "This isn't real, you're just messing with my mind. That's all."

_Powerful alchemy indeed...the dream of him existed in your mind for many years, like a ghost of him with you. You convinced people he existed, though they saw nothing, their minds told them he was there. _

Despite himself, his resolve was wavering. The words struck something inside him, some inner truth...could it be true? Was his brother, the brother he idolized, he loved, he hurt, nothing but the figment of his imagination? Not a figment, though, a figment given reality, and feelings...

_Yet, _the 'tone' was different, pulled Al's attention away from the spiraling guilt. _You came this far, searching for him. No other Alphonse has come here to retrieve him. _

_Nothing_ held out an arm. _Come, choose one. You didn't like yours; was he too forward? Too confident? Maybe you'll like this Edward. He was tortured by the military – he's much more docile._

_No? How about this one. He lost part of his mind, trying to bring you back your body. Never mind, I agree, it would be a waste to bring him out, he's hardly aware of his surroundings anyway._

_Something less tragic, I suppose. This one quietly vanished after you married Winry – you didn't have time for him anymore, and he didn't know what to do with himself._

"Stop!" Al shrieked, tearing away. "He's not...he's not a _thing._ I didn't _do _all those things to him. I wouldn't. I-" somehow, he wasn't surprised to find tears on his cheeks. "Just...show me mine. Please."

_Very well._

Al was moved past more of them. They blurred in his vision, all those unhappy brothers of his, some of them heartbreakingly young, others older and unfamiliar.

Finally, he saw one, who looked _right._ He wasn't more his brother than the others, but the familiarity was there, born of years spent together.

"I'm taking him back with me," Al said firmly, moving to step close enough to 'activate' him. He didn't dare look to the sides, lest he see-

_And the others? They need you no less, maybe more than this one. Why don't you take home one of the abused ones? Or maybe one of the young ones; you can raise him. _

Wavering, Al bit his lip. How could he choose? How could he pick one, leaving all the others to suffer? So many of them...would they stay here forever? Would they fade away in time?

He shook his head to clear it, and firmed his resolve. "No...I want _this _one. He's _my_ mistake. The others are mine too, but I don't remember making them. I can't take responsibility for all my selves, or fix those mistakes. But I'm going to fix this one."

Al stepped closer, and Edward looked up with the familiar unhappy, fearful, despairing expression they all seemed to have.

When Al held out his arms, Ed's face transformed to pure joy. The barrier dissolved, and Ed flung himself against his brother, clinging to him like a lifeline.

"_I knew you'd come, I knew you would-"_

Laughing, crying, Al held onto him tightly. How selfish of him, how terrible, to mistreat Edward who couldn't help but love him.

_Take him..._

_Nothing_ smiled again, a laugh of cruel irony echoing around. _Yes, take him for now. Soon enough he will find his way back, when you tire of him again. It's the story of his life._

"Shut up!" Ed shouted, forestalling the startled Al's answer. "Al would _never_ do that to me. You don't know what you're talking about."

He tossed Al a confident grin, though there was a hint of tears at the edge. "C'mon, Al, let's get out of here."

* * *

A wind was blowing in through the window, the promise of rain to break the heat wave. Al held on to Ed tightly, as if he would vanish into nothing. 

"Brother...you came back, I was so worried...I'm so sorry...!"

"Sssh, Al, it's ok, I'm sorry too. I'll try not to be so overbearing...just hang with me, ok? I'm not used to you being so grown up..."

Ed's arms were around him, his voice in Al's ear, and the memory was slipping away like a dream.

"Promise...promise you won't ever vanish again?"

"Of course I won't...where the hell would I go?"

Al opened his mouth to answer, to tell about some place in the middle of nothing full of Edwards who had left, 'gone somewhere', but found he couldn't. It couldn't be real...something bizarre about his brother being created from alchemy...

_A vivid memory, of a summer day, playing in the stream all by himself. Suddenly, someone there- someone who looked like him, like his mother, like his vanished father-_

"_Come on, I'll show you how to skip stones."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_Stoopid," he stuck out his tongue. "I'm your older brother, of course."_

"_Oh..." a smile, "of course! Please show me, Brother?"_


	2. Daybreak

So I ended up writing a sequel, because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Thanks to Song with whom I discussed this idea, and the idea of a possible _third _part. I hope it came out good...  
Warnings same as first part.

**Daybreak**

The gavel descended with a _thunk_ of finality, sealing his fate.

Two burly soldiers stopped on either side of him, and pulled him to his feet. Al swayed unsteadily, unable to use his straitjacketed arms to regain his balance. The courtroom blurred slightly with tears, though he had no idea when he had started crying.

Winry sat in the audience, obviously pregnant, and the hatred in her eyes followed Al on his way out, cutting him to the quick.

He honestly didn't know what was worse, the looks of hatred or the looks of pity. Nobody understood, even though towards the end he had finally blurted out the truth, explained that it had been the only viable option, and the kindest thing he could have done for his brother.

The only thing the explanations had gained him was a one-way ticket to the Central asylum, instead of a visit to the firing squad.

* * *

"Hey, Brother! How's it going?" Al forced cheerfulness into his voice. On the other end of the line, Ed didn't sound nearly so happy. 

"Fine, I guess…"

"I'm glad that you decided to go back to the military," Al enthused. "I think it's really good for you. And Brigadier General Mustang definitely needed the help!"

"Yeah, well, I guess the bastard is happy I'm here to clean up shit for him."

Ed sounded glum, even more so than usual, and Al bit his lip. They had only been separate for two months, and Ed was already unhappy.

"Al…are you sure you're doing ok?"

_Here we go again,_ Al thought, but the anxious tone bothered him. "I'm doing fine, Brother. Don't worry about me."

"Oh…" Ed sounded crestfallen. "You don't need me there?"

_Shit_. Al had hoped they would manage to stay away from the danger zone this time. "I think what you're doing is really important! You're helping to rebuild the country! Aren't you…aren't you happy doing it?" Al allowed some hesitance to creep into his tone.

"Yeah, I mean, of course I'm happy," Ed stammered quickly, "I was just making sure you're ok-" Ed stopped suddenly, then said uncertainly, "I'm not…being a nuisance, am I? I'm trying-"

"Of course not!" Al cut in quickly. "I worry about you too. Take care of yourself, ok Brother? I wouldn't want something to happen to you."

"Yeah…" The edge of tiredness was still in Ed's voice. The conversation ended with a few more bits of trivia, and Al hung up, frustrated.

Maybe he was imagining it, but all the conversations went the same way. He had hoped that after a few months Ed would start pulling away, develop some independence, but the opposite seemed to be true.

Even Mustang had commented on how wistful Ed was becoming.

Al shook his head, and forced his thoughts away. Ed would be fine; he was just having a little separation anxiety.

After all, it wasn't like Ed couldn't _live_ without Al.

And yet…Al remembered a dream, of an empty place full of rejected Edwards…

_That will never happen to my brother. I swear it._

_-_

"Al!" Ed rushed at him, and threw his arms around his brother. Al laughed, returning the enthusiastic hug.

"It's been half a year!" Ed now had to look up slightly to meet Al's eyes, but he immediately looked down, bangs hiding his face. "I missed you…"

"I missed you too," Al held on tighter, almost surprised by how true the words were. Finding excuses to stay away from Central the past six months had taken a toll on him; it was very good to see Ed again. Ed suddenly made a strange choked sound, and buried his face in Al's shoulder, fisting his hands in the fabric of his brother's shirt.

"Ed? Are you alright?" Al asked in concern. This behavior was definitely un-Ed-like.

Just as suddenly, Ed let go and pulled away from him, forcing a smile on to his face.

"Yeah!" he sounded cheerful, and tried to scrub surreptitiously at his face. "I'm great! It's so good to see you again…come on, you must be hungry, let's go get something to eat!"

Ed grabbed Al's suitcase, despite his protestations that he could easily carry it on his own, and let the way out of the train station, still talking enthusiastically.

"Man, we need to get together more often…first thing, I'm going to ask the Bastard for a month of vacation, so I'll be able to visit you in Resembool."

-

When Al was sure that Edward was completely asleep, he crept out of the room and picked up the phone, dialing a very familiar number.

"Hello?" a slightly grumpy voice answered.

"Brigadier General Mustang, it's me, Alphonse," Al said quietly.

There was a slight grunt on the other end, then- "I suppose there's a reason you're calling me this late?"

"It's about Brother." Of course, when _wasn't_ it about him? "He's going to be asking you for vacation. Could you please not give him more than a week, ten days at most?"

There was silence, then an audible sigh. "Alphonse, I'm not sure I understand exactly what you're trying to achieve, but I don't think it's quite right. Your brother is entitled to a vacation."

"I-"

"Moreover," Mustang continued, "I'm not sure pressuring your brother to return to the military was a wise decision. He's obviously miserable. Why do you insist on this? I trusted your judgment, but a moping Fullmetal is not terribly useful to anybody."

"I want him to be independent," Al said hotly. "I'm trying to get him away from me and doing something constructive."

"If you truly want him to grow, you need to let him choose his own path, not control his life," Mustang retorted sharply.

"I'm doing this for his own good," Al snapped. "If it was up to him, he'd follow me around all day. I want him to make his own decisions, and live his own life!"

"Alphonse," Mustang's voice gentled, "Your brother is still trying to get over some severe trauma. I understand your frustration, but I don't think you're going about this the right way. You need to talk things over with him. He's his own person. Don't treat him like a child."

Al wanted to scream in frustration. Of course Mustang couldn't understand. He _couldn't_ talk it over with Edward, because then Edward would probably get it into his head that he was unnecessary and vanish again. _And besides,_ some unpleasant part of his mind thought, _he's not his own person. He's mine. That's the problem I'm trying to solve._

_-_

Somehow, everything Ed did was suspect.

Every time he begged Al to visit him, Al wondered whether this wasn't another sign of dependence. When he joked on the phone about Al being the 'little brother' and therefore unable to take care of himself, Al got angry and snappish, and Ed sulked for a week.

When Ed finally called him again, Al decided that this could be a useful 'learning experience', and blocked him out.

He spent a week ignoring increasingly frequent phone calls from his brother, even though his conscience twinged a bit. Ed needed to get used to coping with things on his own, Al told himself firmly.

Another week passed

Finally, he got a phone call from Mustang.

"Your brother is hysterical," Mustang informed him shortly. "He's sure that you're dying in a ditch somewhere, because nothing else could possibly make you ignore him for so long."

Guilt welled up, and Al found himself stammering slightly. "I…I've been busy…"

"And yet, amazingly enough, here I am talking to you. Are you sure you haven't been hospitalized while you weren't paying attention?" Mustang's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Al scowled, even though he knew the man couldn't see him. "Stop treating me like a child."

There was a pensive silence from the other end for a moment, then Mustang said slowly, "Alphonse, I don't think I understand you. I wonder…is this some sort of power trip for you? Do you enjoy asserting dominance over your brother?"

_What?_ "No!" Al exploded, horrified. "This isn't…how _dare_ you…"

"Then you need to stop trying to get rid of him." Mustang's tone was hard. "Stop playing these childish games! If he's too much for you to cope with, talk it over with him!"

"I'm not-" Al began hotly, but was interrupted by a _click_. He stared at the phone for a minute, incredulous. Had Mustang just _hung up_ on him?

Al found himself shaking in fury. Implying that he was some sort of sadist, that he got his kicks from hurting Edward…it wasn't true, he thought. He just wanted to help his brother. He wanted to be able to live knowing that Ed could manage on his own, that Ed's life wasn't dependent on Al's. This was for Ed's own good.

Hand still shaking, Al dialed a different number, and waited nervously until the phone was answered.

"Hello?" The voice was tired, unhappy.

"Hello, brother," he said carefully.

"Al!"

He had never heard anyone sound so relieved. Al felt another twinge of guilt.

"It's me…"

"Al, are you alright? Did something happen to you? I'm so glad I finally caught you…!" The questions came out in a breathless babble.

"No, I'm fine, I'm so sorry…" Al tried to keep his voice steady, though he could feel his eyes threatening with tears.

"Al." Ed let out a sigh of relief. "Don't be sorry…I'm just happy that you're safe. I was so worried…I mean, I know that we argued while back, but it wasn't anything serious, and there's no way that you could be _that_ angry at me…" Ed trailed off, and Al was frozen, unable to fill the silence.

"Al?" Ed's voice was very small. "You…you're not mad at me, are you? Oh _shit,_ you are, right? I'm such a fucking _moron_…Al, I'm sorry!"

"I'm not mad at you!" Al burst out, unable to stand the sheer misery in his brother's voice any longer. Mustang hadn't been exaggerating; Ed really did take it very hard. "Brother, I promise, I'm not mad at you. If anything, you're the one who should be mad at me, for not answering the phone."

"But…" Ed laughed a little, "Why would I be mad about that? It's not like you didn't answer on _purpose_, you were just busy… I must have the worst luck in the world, never being able to catch you around. And here I am, getting all worked up about it!"

_God._ Al scrubbed at his eyes, struggling to keep from sobbing. It hurt too much, talking to Ed. It wasn't normal, it wasn't _right_, why did Edward take everything on himself? Why couldn't Ed yell at him, for a change? Two years ago, Edward had acted much more naturally…was it really Al's fault, for trying to force a separation?

Was Edward truly incapable of functioning on his own?

-

Al's next idea was much more benign, and he was very pleased with himself for coming up with it. After all, it was obvious that Winry was in love with Ed, and Ed certainly cared about her. Maybe if he set them up, Ed would fall in love…and once Ed had a wife and a home and some kids, he would probably be a lot happier.

The next time Ed came to Resembool on leave, Al decided to put his plan into action.

Autumn was already well in, though the area around Resembool got none of the multicolored leaves that could be seen in the north. Many trees were evergreen, and those that weren't tended to lose their leaves in an abrupt transition from greenish-brown to none at all. Still, the days were pleasant and the nights were cool, and it almost seemed like they were young again, Al, Ed and Winry, hiking in the fields and woods around the house.

Whenever possible, Al arranged for Ed and Winry to have some time alone with each other, though he kept a close watch to see how they were getting along. They seemed fairly happy together. It could work, though Ed had a disturbing tendency to start looking for Al whenever he found himself alone with Winry for more than a few minutes. This bothered Al a bit, though he managed to push the thought to the back of his mind. At least Ed was _connecting _to someone.

One evening, when the two brothers went off on their own, Al decided it was time to up the ante. Grinning slyly at Ed, he prodded, "So? Have you gotten anywhere with Winry yet?"

Ed startled and blushed scarlet, which Al took to be a good sign. "I don't know what you're talking about," he managed.

"Oh please," Al scoffed, "I've seen how you look at each other." He punched Ed playfully on the arm, ignoring the protests. "You know you can't hide anything from me. I was always sure you two would end up together."

His brother looked startled, and shot him a strange look. "Really? It doesn't…I mean…you used to fight with me over Winry…"

Damn, he had to cut this train of thought off at the quick, before the idea became entrenched in Ed's mind. If Al were to show any interest at all in Winry, Ed would probably back away, and end up alone, which could end in… "We were _little kids_," Al scoffed quickly. "That was years ago. And anyway, I don't like Winry _that_ way." Which was true, Al thought to himself. He loved her, but in more of a brotherly childhood-friend sort of way.

"But I don't want you to feel left out…" Ed said hesitantly, searching his face earnestly for any sign of unhappiness.

Al was quick to smile. "How could I possibly feel left out? I care about you both, and I want you to be happy."

Ed looked away, scuffing his feet slightly in the grass, a pensive look on his face. Al watched him carefully, trying to guess what thoughts were going through his mind. Finally Ed said hesitantly, "So, you really think…Winry and I…"

"Sure," Al said firmly.

-

Al could hardly suppress his exultation over the fact that it seemed to be working. He kept up a careful surveillance of the development of their relationship, though he made sure that he wouldn't get caught at it. Ed spent more time with Winry, now, and once he even caught the two holding hands.

Still, he sometimes noticed Ed shooting him furtive looks, as if to ask, _is this all right?_ Despite everything, the doubts resurfaced.

What if the only reason Ed was pursuing a relationship with Winry was because _Al_ told him to? Had Ed truly fallen in love with her, or could he actually only be deepening his dependence on Al?

What if _Winry_ was unwilling to bear the fact that Ed was constantly seeking Al out, and tried to break off the relationship?

-

Once Ed was back in Central, it was easy for Al to make sure that Ed wasn't seeing too much of him. Now, when Ed was lonely, he should turn to Winry instead of Al, especially now that Winry opened a clinic near Central, and Al was constantly traveling with his job of freelance alchemy. And, well, he was so busy all the time, what with all those new roads and tunnels being built up north, and working on rebuilding after that hurricane in the west, that really, he couldn't _afford_ to spend too long in Central, which was saturated with alchemists.

Of course, it wasn't like he was shunning Ed completely. They still talked on the phone often, though Al moved around a lot –just enough to make sure Ed couldn't catch him consistently.  
He also talked to Winry often, and thus kept fairly close tabs on their progressing relationship.

-

He had found work doing some design and exterior decorating for the municipality building of Talburn, a town not far from West City. It was fun, allowing him more vent for his creative abilities than tunnel digging did, and he found himself thinking of what Ed would probably have done with the building. Given Ed's inexplicable fondness for gargoyles, skulls and spikes, the building would have probably ended up looking like some evil warlord's fortress out of a film. Al laughed to himself. Hardly appropriate for a municipal building, but maybe he should recommend to Brigadier General Mustang that Ed be given a prison building to decorate.

He felt a sudden pang at the thought of the general. It was clear that he hadn't forgiven Al for his meddling, and had been oddly cold the last few times they had spoken. Mustang had even gone so far as to offer Al several jobs in Central, with the rather explicit hint that he should spend some time with Ed, and had been very disapproving when Al politely turned down the offer.

The fact that Ed seemed to _still_ be pining had clinched the decision. It was ridiculous that Ed was incapable of dealing with a little separation. Why couldn't Mustang _see_ that his brother's behavior was unnatural? Catering to his whims would only strengthen Ed's dependency.

A few days later, though, he got a phone call from Winry.

"Ed's worried about you," she told him once the pleasantries were over.

Al sighed. Not Winry _too_! "I'm doing fine."

"Frankly, I'm worried about you, too," Winry sounded rather annoyed. "I can see that you're having some sort of adolescent rebellion thing going on, and you want to be independent, but you're not being fair to Ed."

"I am _not_ having an 'adolescent rebellion'!" Al practically yelled, indignantly. "I have a _job_, and I'm busy!"

"You're avoiding him on purpose," Winry said flatly. "You've been doing good business; there's no reason you can't come by more often."

"He never lets up!" Al exploded. "Every time I come by, he follows me around all the time. Do you honestly think that's _healthy_ for him?"

"Have you considered that if you came _more often_ he wouldn't make such a fuss every time you deign to show up?" Winry was shouting now as well.

"I-"

"You were practically inseparable for more than eight years, of _course_ it's hard for him to get used to you being away all the time! You _idiot,_ he keeps wondering what he's done to drive you away – _is_ it because I'm seeing him?"

Al tried to get a word in edgewise. "Of course not! I just-" 

"Then stop being such a _child_!" Winry spat, and slammed the phone down.

"I'm _not_ a child," Al muttered furiously to the silent phone. Did _nobody_ remember what happened last year? It wasn't normal, or natural, or _right_ that just because of a fight Ed would vanish for months. And the way he returned… Al shuddered. He couldn't tell them what he knew. He couldn't even tell Ed that it wasn't his fault, it was how he was built – what would it _do_ to his brother to learn that he might not be quite human?

Al had no clue how he had done something so incredible, yet Truth could not lie. Nothing, no unhappiness Ed was going through now could possibly compare to an eternity in limbo, forever rejected.

Truth's mocking words came back to him, _"Soon enough he'll find his way back." _How could he make sure Ed never suffered such a fate? He tried and tried to make him independent, to give Ed purpose, direction, so that when Al moved on with his own life Ed would not be left behind.

But it wasn't working. Al almost wanted to cry in frustration. It was too much for him, too much pressure to try and keep track of his brother's life for him. He had to find a permanent solution, something that would ensure that Ed never, ever found himself rejected.

A glimmer of an idea flitted through the back of his brain, though it dissipated too quickly to be caught. Either way, he might as well see about accepting one of those jobs in Central. Maybe then General Mustang and Winry would forgive him.

It was bittersweet to know that he didn't have to court Ed's forgiveness. Ed loved him no matter what, and always blamed himself for any problems. In his eyes, Al could do no wrong.

-

Ed was overjoyed that Al had accepted a job in Central. True, it wasn't glamorous, involving inspecting construction sites and working on foundations for some new laboratories, but he would make do. Both Winry and Ed invited him to stay at their places, and when Al politely declined, General Mustang called him in for a serious discussion.

The upshot was that Al consented to stay with Ed, who happily made up the spare room for him. Ed wanted to hear _all _about Al's adventures. Ed wanted to know if Al had met any nice girls yet, had made new friends, was thinking of settling down.

Ed also insisted on cooking and doing the dishes, and told Al that his company was payment enough. Then he nervously backed off, and with a pained little smile told Al that he was free to do whatever he wanted, because Al was grown up and didn't need a babysitter or anything like that.

The unspoken words – _big brother-_ hovered in between them, but before he could tell Ed that he _wasn't_ a nuisance and he most definitely needed an older brother, Ed had run off to do some errand or other. Al was left alone in his brother's small house, feeling queasily guilty over the whole situation.

He hadn't even asked Ed how things were with Winry, yet, Al thought to himself morosely. And Ed was so…so hangdog and neglected, just because Al hadn't visited him for a while.

Al sighed, and wondered what he would do with himself all alone. Tomorrow he would make it up to Ed, he promised himself. He'd ask Ed to come along with him to the construction area and help him check out the stability of those foundations.

-

The site was mostly empty today; waiting for Al's ok before the work could continue. Because of moisture problems, the foundations hadn't been terribly sound, and Al was contracted to see what could be done about shoring them up and reinforcing the cellar.

Ed followed him through the maze of concrete slabs, beams and scaffolding, and Al wouldn't admit it, but it felt good to be on a 'mission' with Ed again.

They climbed down several rickety ladders and into the gloom of the half-built cellar, which almost resembled some twisted forest. Ed had been scrupulously careful all day not to encroach on Al's territory, and now, too, looked over at Al for permission before going to inspect one of the walls.

It would never work, Al thought in despair, watching Ed's still-petite black-clad form blend into the darkness. There was no way to keep Ed happy, no way to ensure… even if Ed _died_ he'd probably feel guilty over leaving Al alone!

The only way… if Ed were to die _protecting_ Al….

Al's heart was pounding frantically. Dare he? Ed would be saved. Surely, if Ed were to die happy, he wouldn't be considered rejected.

After all, these construction sites were not terribly safe.

As quietly as he could, Al sent a spark of alchemy up the pillar next to him, and deliberately crouched down to inspect its base. His pulse throbbed in his ears. It all depended on whether Ed would notice the creaking, whether he would turn around in time….

"There may be some sort of sewage leak softening the earth," Ed speculated, "Something's definitely – AL! Look out!"

Al looked up innocently, rising to a half-crouch. "What-"

Ed pounced on him, his first instinct always to protect his brother. At that moment he forgot alchemy, forgot everything but flinging himself at Al to keep him out of danger.

Ed's eyes closed instinctively for impact, so he didn't see Al send another spark of alchemy, didn't know what was happening until the girder above them collapsed, plunging almost a foot of steel through his chest.

Al watched in horror. He knew what was coming, but actually _seeing_ it, the suddenly-vacant look in Ed's eyes, the way his mouth worked, bringing up blood, before Ed slid down helplessly onto his chest, killed something inside of him.

He would have expected to feel vindicated now. Ed, being an alchemical construct, should have dissipated in blue sparks, or possibly disintegrated, or _something._ But all Al was left with was a heavy corpse leaking blood, and panic was starting to rise in his throat. Where was the epiphany?

"Ed?" he whispered, and was startled at how his voice sounded. He had to get Ed out of there, and into the light. Slowly, because Ed was so _heavy _all of a sudden, Al maneuvered him onto his shoulder and began to carry him up.

It seemed like only seconds passed, and he found himself kneeling on the ground, in the sun, with no clear memory of how he had gotten there. Ed was on his lap, eyes wide and empty, and there was blood, so much blood everywhere.

"Tell me it's okay," Al begged, shaking his brother. "Tell me I did good. Tell me you're all right. Ed, _talk to me_!"

Suddenly he could hear shouting, and pounding feet. People surrounded him, but Al refused to let go of Ed.

This isn't right, Al thought to himself dizzily. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen!

"Alphonse!"

Al looked up, and wondered vaguely when Mustang had gotten there.

Mustang knelt in front of him, horrified eyes jumping from him to Ed. "Alphonse, how did this happen?"

"A-a beam," Al stuttered, wondering why everything kept blurring all over. "It fell…E-Ed pushed me out of the way…"

That _was_ how it happened, right? All Ed had wanted was to make sure that Al would be out of danger… and now Ed was _gone, _and Al didn't know why everything felt so _wrong._ This was supposed to be the solution!

"…let go," Mustang was saying, his voice tense. "Alphonse, let go of him, come on, there's nothing we can do anymore…"

Al finally relinquished his death grip on Ed's body, and felt like he had just lost a part of himself. Mustang took him and laid him down on a stretcher, and Al wanted to scream when they carefully pushed Ed's eyes shut. Ed should see the sky again, it was such a beautiful day, and Ed had always loved watching the clouds.

Al couldn't move. They were taking Ed away from him, but he couldn't bring himself to give chase. _This was supposed to be the solution_, the thought ran circles in his mind. He had done the right thing, hadn't he?

But if this was truly for the best, _why did it hurt so much?_

_-_

Mustang was in front of him again, gripping his shoulders in an almost painful grasp, and shook him furiously until Al managed to focus his eyes.

"I saw the place where it happened," Mustang said, and there was a rough edge to his voice. "I saw… I saw…" Abruptly he dragged on Al's collar, shaking him like a rag doll. "You murdered him!" the general cried furiously. "You sick bastard, you sit and cry here when you just…"

"I didn't!" Al cried in horror. He _hadn't _murdered Ed. He would _never_ do something like that!

Mustang backhanded him sharply across the face, but Al was too far-gone to be properly worried. "Why did you kill him? Answer me, you piece of shit!"

"I-I _didn't_," Al sniffled. "I didn't murder him. I _didn't_." It was for the best, he told himself. Ed was safe now; nothing else mattered.

Mustang stood up, and motioned two soldiers over. "Take him away," he said in disgust.

* * *

And now, as he was marched to the reinforced truck, he desperately wished that Ed was there for him, because he knew that Ed would never have let them lock him away. 

But Ed was gone, and there was nobody to keep them from closing him in a white room with padded walls, with his hands tied so he couldn't do alchemy, reinforced doors, and only one small, high window to the outside.

Nobody came, and the loneliness was killing Al. He screamed until his throat was raw, and he cried and pleaded, but Ed was still gone.

Al told himself that he had done _right_; he had to believe he had truly saved his brother from a fate worse than death, because the alternative was not an option.

But he wasn't supposed to be _alone._

As time passed, he didn't know anymore what was true and what wasn't, what was real and what was his imagination. The only constants in his life were the bare walls, and the fact that Ed wasn't there. Not even in his dreams would Ed talk to him.

"Ed," he finally pleaded at the blank walls, "I need you. I need you to save me. You _promised_ you'd always be there for me. You promised!"

-

_"I'm home!" Ed called, and Winry got up to greet him. Edward smiled sadly at her, and greeted his two-month-old daughter with a kiss.  
"How is he?" Winry asked tentatively. There was no knowing in what sort of mood Ed would return from the visits._

_"He was almost lucid…" Ed had a fond smile on his face. "I think Al's been getting a little better. He smiled at me, and he knew who I was!"_

_Winry smiled at the obvious excitement in Ed's voice, and didn't mention how many times he had hoped and been disappointed._

_Ed sighed. Someday, he vowed, someday he would get to the bottom of whatever had left his brother almost insensible, hardly understanding the world around him. It didn't matter how much effort it took, because while he loved his wife and his daughter, nobody could ever replace Al. Once again he damned the blurry memories that kept him from being quite sure about what had happened, and the strange conviction embedded in his mind that sacrificing another arm for Al was not the solution._

_"Dinner's ready," Winry said gently, and he followed her to the kitchen, unconsciously clenching his metal hand. _

**

* * *

****Random notes**: Writing paranoid!Al was much more fun than I had expected :) If I _do_ end up making it a 3-parter, the last part will be much more Ed-centric.  
Please tell me how it was! 


	3. Evening Falls

Sorry for the long wait! Finally, the last bit in this bizarre story. After a lot of work, I think I'm pleased with it - I hope you will be, too. Feedback is appreciated like you have no idea.  
Thanks go to Zarephathcs, who betaed for me (but any remaining mistakes are my own), and to Song, who read the whole thing and encouraged it. I'm not going to warn for the weirdness ahead; if you read through the first two chapters, you probably have a general idea of what it's going to look like...

**

* * *

****Evening Falls**

_"I'm home!" Ed called out, tossing his coat onto the back of the sofa. Winry poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled at him._

_"Hey. How was your day?"_

_Ed followed her into the kitchen, where little Al sat at the table, doing his homework. "Hi, Dad."_

_"Hi Al." Ed tried to swipe some grated cheese, and Winry slapped his hand away. "Fucking annoying," he answered Winry's question._

_"Ed!" she said reproachfully. "No cursing. Next thing you know the kids bring notes home from school about inappropriate language."_

_"Yeah, yeah…Al, don't curse at school. Anyway, Mustang sent me to check out some alchemy lab, and when I got there, everyone stared at me as if they'd seen a ghost. They thought I was dead, for some reason." Ed crossed his arms in exasperation. "I don't get it! Why do people keep telling me that I died? Don't you think I would've noticed if that sort of thing happened?"_

_Winry laughed uncertainly. It was a familiar occurrence, but disturbing nonetheless. Sometimes she wondered if she wasn't forgetting something important, as if there was knowledge lying just beyond the edges of her consciousness._

_"Ah, whatever," Ed ran his fingers through his hair. "Screw 'em all, anyway. How was your day? That new palm design working out?"_

_Winry gave up on trying to correct Ed's language. "I think I'll be able to increase the range of movement a lot," she said happily. "I'll have you try it out once the prototype is ready."_

_"Your mom likes to experiment on me," Ed stage-whispered conspiratorially to Al, who giggled._

_"I'm hungry!" Penny announced bouncing into the kitchen, forgetting politeness for the sake of the Greater Good – in this case, filling her stomach. The unconscious rudeness was just another trait she had inherited from her father, along with stunning gold eyes and a compact, athletic body._

_A few minutes later Mark, the youngest, joined them for dinner. Custom – or superstition, as Ed said – dictated that a child should only be named after family members while they were still alive. Not wishing the kids to suffer from any sort of stigma because of their names, Ed and Winry had decided to conform, and thus regretfully did not name children after any of their parents. So Winry had gotten to name Penelope, a name which she had always secretly wished she had, and when Al came along, there was no question what to name him. Mark, at the youngest, had been a question, but when Roy had made jokes about little 'Ed Junior', Ed had promptly gotten annoyed and announced at the spur of the moment that the child's name was Mark. Winry saw no reason not to stick with it._

_Life was wonderful, almost dreamlike in its calm sense of idyll. Ed was ecstatic with his family, and enjoyed bitching good-naturedly about his work. Winry had grown famous in Central for her automail, which was in high demand._

_Everything would have been perfect, if only Al had been able to share it with them._

* * *

The loneliness dogged Winry every step of every day. She had never thought she could possibly be lonely with three children at home, but she was. Raising them by herself was harder than she had ever thought possible.

When she looked in their faces she saw reflections of Ed. There was no question whose children they were; their parentage was written boldly into their features, which only made the nights more terrifying.

Why did she wake up some nights when Mark crawled into bed with her surprised, shocked, to find this child in her house?

Ed could not have possibly fathered him, she thought in terror in the dark. Ed had died years before Mark had even been born.

But in the morning she remembered everything, remembered their years of marriage, and wondered about this odd recurring dream where Ed had been murdered. The reality of what had happened had been horrible enough; why did her mind feel the need to conjure up visions of worse scenarios?

Maybe the hardest part of moving on was that it wasn't so hard, after all, at least in the technical sense. She wouldn't lack money; the automail business brought in plenty, certainly enough to raise three children on, and of course there was the money she had inherited from Ed.

Companionship was available whenever she needed it. There were professional colleagues for when she wanted them, other mothers from the kids' school to hang out with when she felt like it. She even maintained contact with Ed's former military unit, and Mustang's connections had proved useful on more than one occasion.

Sometimes Winry felt as if she was betraying Ed's memory by managing without him, as if he had contributed nothing necessary. Then she visited his grave, just to feel the yawning emptiness inside her again, to reassure herself that she could still remember his smile and laughter, and even the way his face twisted in pain every time she hooked up the automail. She hoped he wasn't lonely, wherever he was. Loneliness had been the one thing that could take him apart, leaving him small and empty.

His grave lay next to Al's, and Winry always spent time at his grave as well, trying to remember the bright, intelligent, happy young man he had been before everything had gone to hell. Before he had lost all contact with the outside world, for a reason nobody understood.

Winry knew that there was nothing left now but to move on, but still she sometimes felt as if they were caught in limbo, waiting for something.

* * *

_The dream shattered all too soon, when the phone call about Al's illness arrived from the hospital. It wasn't serious, they promised. They just wanted Ed to know. All it was was a mild fever and vomiting, probably a stomach flu. Nothing to worry about._

_Ed spent an hour interrogating them on the phone, until finally the nurse told him firmly that enough was enough, and that it was time to hang up._

_"He's going to be okay," Winry reassured him, running her hands over his tense shoulders. "It's a good hospital. I'm sure they know what they're doing."_

_Bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, Ed stared off into the distance. "I just…I have a bad feeling about this." _

_-_

_Ed knew that Winry was worried, but he couldn't stop himself from visiting Al every day at the hospital after work. For years already Al hadn't talked to him, and while Ed couldn't say that he had come to terms with the situation, he had, in a sense, gotten used to it._

_Mustang said there was a fine line between devotion and obsession, and that Ed was still walking it. Ed told Mustang to go screw himself. _

_So he visited the hospital every day now, which he didn't normally do. But right now Al was sick, he probably felt like crap and was bored to death, so the least Ed could do was drop in every so often and tell him how his day had been._

_A smile was always on his face when he entered the room and sat down next to Al's bed, and asked him how he was feeling. He waited for a moment, just in case Al would answer him, but if he didn't, Ed just moved on._

_"Mustang's been complaining about the paperwork, again," he said, slouching in the uncomfortable hospital chair and stretching his feet in front of him. Not for the first time, he considered transmuting it into something more comfortable, but the one time he had tried the staff had freaked and some nurse had lectured him extensively about using unapproved alchemy in a hospital environment. "He said that there's been some weird thing going on with my pay – somebody sent me double, by mistake!" Ed said gleefully. "Apparently they've been sending checks to Winry in addition to my salary, get that! Of course Mustang told me to give it back. Ah, well, it's not like we're lacking money."_

_He looked at Al for a reaction, but Al just lay there, staring quietly at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. The smile slipped off his face for a moment, leaving Ed with a worried crease between his eyebrows, but he managed to push the melancholy away. He stood up. "Well, I hope you don't hate the hospital too much. The doctors say you should be out of here, soon." Ed took a few steps towards the door, then paused again. "I wish I could stay, but you know Winry. She hates it when I'm late for dinner. And the kids need help with homework." _

_Ed watched his brother pleadingly for any sort of reaction, then sighed. "Well, bye Al. I love you."_

_No answer was forthcoming, and Ed finally forced himself to leave the room, feeling a faint twinge in his chest as he did so._

* * *

It was late at night when Penny woke up to hear faint sobbing. Probably Mark, again. Well, he was still a baby, only six years old. Al was nine, old enough to take care of him, and they were in the same room.

There was no reason to get up. Penny promptly rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

The crying continued, and Penny stared at the darkness, pouting a little. She didn't want to get up, but probably Mom didn't hear him. And she was the Big Sister, so she had a _responsibility_. If Mom was up all night with Mark, then she'd be cranky, and when Mom was cranky everybody was annoyed. _Pissed off_, she thought to herself, remembering one of Dad's favorite expressions, even though Mom didn't like it when they talked like Dad. But she was old enough, she was already ten and a half!

Heaving a sigh, Penny rolled tiredly out of bed and padded over to the room next door to hers, where her brothers slept.

As expected, Mark was sitting up in bed, sniffling, while Al sat glumly on his own bed.

"What's the matter?" she whispered loudly. "Is it another bad dream?"

Mark shook his head, rubbing his face, and Penny wanted to tell him that boys weren't supposed to cry. Instead, she went and sat next to him on the bed, and he hugged her tightly.

"I think Mom hates me," he whispered back.

"Don't be stupid," Penny said sharply. "Mom just misses Dad. Like we do."

Al scooted closer to them, the small glow from the nightlight making his movements cast crazy shadows over the walls.

"Dad promised he'd never leave us," Al said quietly. "Why did he have to go?"

Penny didn't know what to answer. She knew she was supposed to, because she was the eldest, but these were her questions too.

She had asked Elysia once why both of them didn't have dads, and Elysia said it was because they were both in the army. Soldiers did lots of dangerous things, Elysia said. But that wasn't right, Penny thought. Because Dad hadn't gone off to war or anything.

Suddenly, she had an idea. "He didn't go," she said firmly. Both Al and Mark looked up at her in surprise, and Penny continued excitedly, warming to her idea. "Let's pretend like he's here."

"But…" Al began, looking around in the dark.

"You mean, pretend like we came home from school now, and are telling him what happened?" Mark asked hopefully.

Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Dad would say that we should do homework even if it's stupid," she said, and Al interrupted: "He'd say it was _crap_."

They all giggled a little nervously at using the word out loud, and Penny continued weaving her story.

Three pairs of eyes with unnatural golden glints shone in the semi-darkness, as they built their father again from memory.

For a moment, it seemed almost as if he was really there.

* * *

_Al wasn't getting any better, and Ed got more and more worried as the days went by. Winry was just as worried, but not nearly to the level of almost-panic that Ed was in. _

_It was their first real fight in a long time._

_"I know you're worried about Al, I am too, but you can't forget everything else just because he's sick!" Winry hated fighting when the children were home. She knew that they were probably cowering somewhere behind a door, listening tensely, frightened, but she was so furious she couldn't stop herself._

_"I'm not forgetting everything else! Don't you understand that Al is my only brother? He's all-"_

_Winry's slap cut him off, and he stared at her, shocked into silence._

_"Don't you dare!" Winry snapped, tears starting in her eyes. "Don't you dare say that he's all the family you have!" She turned away, feeling sick inside, trying to hide her tears._

_"I didn't mean it that way…" Ed said uncertainly, reaching for her. "Please, Winry, you know how I feel about you…" He could never bear watching her cry. "I just can't do anything for him anymore! This is all I have left of him!" _

_Winry sighed. She knew that Ed could never be cut off from Al entirely, and she wouldn't want him to be. It was just difficult, sometimes, dealing with Ed's job that dragged him all over the place, and his devotion to Al, and sometimes it all boiled over. _

_"Let's make a deal," Winry said. "Today we'll all go visit Al, and you'll make sure that you're available for the rest of the week. After all, it's hardly life-threatening!"_

_Ed smiled a bit, and nodded reluctantly._

* * *

Saying that Roy Mustang hated paperwork was not entirely true. Of course, he hated filling it in with a passion, and would do anything to escape from that dreaded chore. But in truth, he was a big believer in paperwork. No matter how you tried to bury something, if somebody had written it down at some point, it would turn up. All those files neatly shelved hid whole worlds of secrets waiting to be interpreted.

And now Mustang was contemplating one of these secrets. It had taken colossal effort to dig it up out of the graveyard of useless material, but he had struck gold, found the pebble on the proverbial tracks.

In his hands was what seemed utterly normal – a standard inter-office memo, concerning stopping the pay of one Fullmetal Alchemist, deceased. What made this memo so odd was the fact that it was dated ten years ago.

Eyebrows furrowed, Mustang allowed his gaze to fall on the death certificate sitting on his desk, dated three months ago. He hadn't had the heart to file it away, to permanently designate Fullmetal to the past, but now he didn't know what to do.

An analysis of the memo showed no results of alchemical tampering, and anyway, why would someone want to fake Fullmetal's death?

Mustang didn't like mysteries. Everything had a logical explanation, even this.

It was probably time for a talk with a certain Winry Elric.

* * *

"Don't you think you're a bit old to still be sleeping with a night light?" Winry asked, slightly playfully, when Mark refused to let her turn it off. Even more surprisingly, Al had made a similar complaint.

"No!" Mark said loudly, sitting bolt upright.

She supposed this might be considered some sort of reaction to losing Ed, so she didn't push the issue, but it still worried her. They had never seemed so nervous at night, before.

"You know there's no reason to be afraid of the dark, right?" Winry asked, nevertheless dropping her hand away from the switch of the small light.

"We're NOT afraid of the dark!" Al said belligerently. "But if you turn off the light, maybe Dad won't be able to find us to come visiting!"

A sort of icy fear trickled down Winry's spine, and she sat down on Mark's bed. "Al, Mark, Dad's not coming back," she said gently, trying to choke down her own emotions. "I miss him too, I miss him a lot, but he's-"

"He _does_ visit us," Mark muttered sullenly. "Just like Penny said."

Penny was in on it too? What kind of terrible mother was she, not to even know what her children were doing?

"How does he visit you?" she tried, hoping she didn't sound as worried as she felt.

Al and Mark exchanged a look with each other, wondering whether to trust the Grownup with a divine childhood secret.

"…It's like playing pretend," Al finally said, while Mark looked on in concern. "Only if we play long enough, Dad sometimes comes to visit."

Winry exhaled in relief. It seemed that all they were doing was imagining Ed still alive. A mostly harmless, pastime, really. She leaned to kiss Mark on his forehead, and then gave the same treatment to Al, though he made a face.

"I'm glad Dad comes to visit you," she told them. "Next time, why don't you tell him that I miss him too, hmm?"

Leaving the night light on, she exited the room and closed the door silently, then leaned against it weakly. It might have only been pretend, but she couldn't help but remember two other children who hadn't been able to cope with the loss of a parent, and the tragedy it had led to.

She vowed that _her_ children would never feel so alone.

* * *

_"Bacterial meningitis?" Ed repeated dumbly, staring around at the nurses rushing around worriedly, and the harried doctors. "I don't understand, you said it was just a stomach flu!"_

_The doctor shook his head sadly, looking grim. "It's difficult to know, with these diseases, which is why meningitis is such a severe problem. But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do at this point."_

_A sort of panic threatened to overwhelm Ed, and he grabbed the front of the doctor's coat. "Don't tell me that! There has to be something!"_

_Seemingly unperturbed, the doctor managed to keep his calm in the fact of Ed's panic. "There's not much time left. We will do our best to try and save him, but the chances are very slim. I'm sorry."_

_Ed was practically incoherent on the phone, but Winry got the gist of what he said. Al was dying. Be there._

_The kids weren't home from school yet, so she asked the neighbors to take care of them, and rushed to the hospital._

_In the room outside where Al was being treated, Ed looked up from his clenched hands when Winry walked in, and their eyes met in mutual fear. She ran to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, just trying to keep breathing._

_He didn't know what was wrong with him, why he felt that there was something terrible just waiting to happen, far beyond his brother's death._

_"Oh, Ed," Winry said, tears in her eyes. It helped that she felt his pain, that she ached over what seemed inevitable just as much as he did._

_Unable to contain the nervous energy, Ed abruptly pulled away and started pacing, finally pausing to slam his fist against the wall. _

_It wasn't fair that things ended like this. It wasn't fair that Al had lost his mind, and not had any of the things Ed wanted for him: a family, a normal life. It wasn't fair that there was some block inside of him, preventing him from doing the necessary alchemy to fix the situation._

_He knew that he shouldn't, he had sworn that his children would never be left alone like he and Al had. He had promised to be a better father, and hell, he intended to keep that promise. _

_But he would have given anything for Al. Another arm, another leg, those were small sacrifices…_

_Ed's breath hitched, and he hunched over, hardly hearing Winry's worried query as to whether he was alright._

_He didn't know how he knew it, but he could feel that Al was dying, felt every slow breath as if it were his own. In one despairing moment he knew everything, knew that he was never supposed to have had a family, that he shouldn't have made promises he couldn't keep. He was never meant to belong to anybody but Al, and he knew that he simply wasn't capable of living without him._

_The world blurred around him, and he felt strange, as if some part of him was pulling far away._

_He hardly noticed the slight pain as his knees crashed against the floor, and Winry's agonized cry came from far away, faint and thin._

_The truth was that he wished he _could_ continue living; he had so much to live for, so much that Al had given him._

_The truth was that he couldn't._

* * *

"How dare you!" Winry stood up, slamming both hands down on the table between them. She didn't care that the other patrons of the restaurant looked at her in startlement, or that she was making a scene.

"Winry, please sit down," Mustang said calmly.

"I was married to him for _ten years_," Winry hissed, her eyes shooting sparks, but returning to her seat nonetheless. "How can you possibly even _insinuate_ that he was some sort of homunculus?"

Mustang clasped his hands, looking at her seriously. "I do not want to believe it either. Remember, he was my subordinate for even longer than you were married to him. But I can't disregard this document." He gestured at the memo sitting on the table.

"So some secretary made a stupid mistake. That's reason enough to think that Ed wasn't human?" Winry asked scornfully, dismissing the offending document with a wave of her hand. She refused to acknowledge the sudden memories rising, of all the times Ed had complained of being thought dead….

Shaking his head grimly, Mustang reached into his pocket and pulled out a newspaper clipping, old and rather yellowed.

"It took me quite a bit of effort to acquire this," he said, smoothing it out. "I ended up finding it at a small library north of East City."

_Fullmetal Alchemist – Murdered_, the article proclaimed in bold, black letters, and continued on with a sordid story of fratricide, giving a twisted, tragic ending to the story of the Elric brothers.

"It's a hoax," she finally said hoarsely, staring at the paper in shock. The words triggered half-formed memories of dreams, hallucinations – endless arguments with Al, Ed depressed, a terrible trial –

"I dream about it, sometimes," Mustang said contemplatively, staring off into the distance. He closed his eyes, then opened them, looking intently at the tabletop for a moment. "I will tell you honestly, Winry, I don't understand this. I respected Edward very much, and I liked him. I don't know what to believe."

With a sudden movement, Winry crumpled the offensive paper that cheapened her marriage of a decade. Mustang made no move to stop her, despite the rarity of the document.

"He was real," she said bleakly, eyes dry. "He loved me, and he loved the kids, and he loved Al. Whatever happened to him is over, and done with." She took a deep breath, almost forcing the thoughts of the double death from her mind. "These will not be the memories I keep of him."

It was enough that he was gone, collapsed in a freak heart attack the same instant Al died. She was left lonely, but she would keep the memory of ten wonderful years, and she would let nothing tarnish it.

"Goodbye," she told Mustang, and he nodded, looking suddenly old and worn.

Left alone, he contemplated the offensive scrap of paper for a moment, before snapping his fingers. The paper curled, charred instantly to a crisp, the words no longer legible, and then nothing left of it but ashes.

For once, he felt no urge to investigate any further.

* * *

Electricity rent the night. The world stood poised, waiting, but nobody was aware of why, and for what. People slept through that night, except for three children sitting awake in their room, their eyes bright gold in the small light, dreaming.

They wove a story born of longing, sewn of memories, and decorated with fantasy, and before their eyes, the memory took shape, given form, and speech, and life.

Truth laughed at the folly of humans, at the ignorance of children, at the irony of a repetitive, cyclic history.

But it was always willing to trade.

* * *

Screams jerked Winry out of a sound sleep, and she was on her feet and running even before she knew she was awake. It must be a nightmare, she thought frantically, because only in her nightmares did she hear terrified sobbing from her children's room, only then did she run in to find them curled up in miserable little heaps, and blood spreading everywhere –

No evidence of an array was present, but the scene was familiar, throwing her back to another terrifying night, when a suit of armor had shown up at the front door of the house, carrying a bleeding Edward.

But now she had no grandmother to take control of things, and there was no one besides her to stanch the bleeding and asses the damage.

Mark was all but unconscious, bleeding heavily from the stump of his right leg, truncated below the knee. Winry found some sort of strength to sit and deal with the technicalities of fixing him a tourniquet, to keep him from losing more blood until she could get him to a hospital, or at the very least, to the automail clinic attached to their house.

Penny sat, sobbing quietly, hiding her face in blood-covered hands. Winry felt a moment of panic – _her face, what had happened to her face?_ – but the damage was less than life threatening; nothing was missing but one gold-flecked eye.

Al's chest was bleeding slightly, the shape of the ribs oddly concave where it shouldn't have been, but his vital signs were stable, aside from hysterical, pained, breathing. Ribs, she thought, trying to figure out how many had been lost, but losing count every time. She drugged him for pain, putting him to sleep in the clinic with Mark, admonishing Penny to stay and watch her brothers.

The girl was oddly collected, and Winry was reminded forcibly of Ed – who, even while swamped with the pain of the loss of an arm, had the presence of mind to bind Al's soul to the armor in exchange for his leg, and still remain conscious.

_The hospital, she had to call the hospital, call Gracia, or Sheska, she needed help NOW-_

There was an uneven thudding at the door, a crash, and it swung open.

* * *

Edward fought his way up, scrabbling at the dirt suffocating him with two human hands. Finally he lay panting, lacking the strength to move, but a nameless fear ate away at his mind, urging him forward.

He stumbled down the path, only vaguely wondering why he was surrounded by all these squat little stones.

Al. He had to find Al. Al always knew to tell him what was wrong, what to do – but no, that didn't make sense.

Al was dead.

Ed sniffled a little, wiping his eyes on the tattered, dirty sleeve of his uniform. What was happening? Why did everything feel so…wrong?

Home, he thought suddenly. He had to get home, to Winry, and the kids. Oh, shit, he had missed dinner, right? Winry hated when he missed dinner.

…But why should Winry be angry? It wasn't like he really had to eat to survive. Even though eating was nice.

Ed's steps slowed to a halt, and he stood swaying in the middle of the street, sudden knowledge swamping his mind.

This had happened before, hadn't it? The memories were coming back, of things he didn't want to remember, things he _shouldn't_ remember because oh God, how could he live knowing these things?

Almost without volition, his feet started running, the imperative to get home to where things made sense driving him onwards.

The pounding of his legs against the pavement seemed to mock him, jolting up through the soles of his feet. _You aren't real_, the footsteps said, laughing. _You were never real_.

Everything was coming together in his mind, no matter how Ed tried to deny it.

It made sense, suddenly, why he had succeeded where others failed. After all, Al had always believed his brother could do _anything_.

So he could.

Al knew that his brother would always survive, no matter what terrors life threw at him.

So he did.

Ed swiped a hand across his eyes again, remembering the thousands of times when by all rights he should have died, but hadn't, for no better reason than the fact that Al had firmly believed he _couldn't_.

Panic made him run faster, though he knew that the one he most wanted to escape from was himself.

He was nothing, nobody. His achievements were meaningless; he had done nothing in his life – no, his _existence_ – under his own power.

His life was a lie, and finally, he knew it.

Before him stood the house that was his, or at least familiar to him, and he leapt at the door, pounding on it, before slamming the handle with all his might and breaking in.

He could do that sort of thing, because Al had given him the strength, the ability to.

In the doorway, her face frozen in horror, stood Winry, and the reality of what he had done to her, all unknowing, crashed down on him.

Ed swayed, trying to steady himself with a hand on the wall, and felt a yawning hole open inside him.

If he was nothing but a construct, why did he feel love? Why was he ashamed at being what he was?

"Edward," Winry said hoarsely, staring at him as though she'd seen a ghost. And it was true, he _was_ a ghost, a meaningless, empty creature.

"I'm sorry," he managed, wondering if it was enough, if anything he ever said could convey that as bad as she must be feeling right now, _he felt worse_. And no matter how much she hated him, he hated himself more. "It was a lie," he said emptily. "My life was nothing but a hoax. I'm not real. I was never real."

Winry sank to the floor, her legs seemingly losing their strength, staring ahead in shock. "This is a dream," she said, her voice oddly pitched. "It's just a nightmare, and when I wake up, everything will make sense again."

"I love you," Ed said, his breath hitching. "It doesn't matter that my feelings make no sense, or that I should'nt _have_ feelings at all. I thought it was real."

He buried his face in his hands, wishing that he could just _stop being_, but not knowing how, as the knowledge of his own nothingness ate away at him.

Small footsteps made him look up, and a tentative voice called, "Dad?"

Penny stood there, blood staining her clothes, her eye bandaged messily. Winry turned to look at her, eyes dead and listless.

Pain tore through Ed again, that he had, in his presumption, dared to father children, who would ultimately pay the price for his non-existence. "I'm not," he said hoarsely. "I'm not your father. I'm not anybody. I'm not real."

Her eye brimmed with tears, and Penny threw herself at him, burying her face in his legs.

"You _are_ real, Dad!" she screamed. "You're _my_ dad, and _I _say you're real!"

Ed's breath hitched, as dizziness swept through his mind.

_You're my dad._

_You're my big brother._

He was nothing.

_You're real_.

Slowly his arms folded around her, and he looked down, his mind emptying like a sieve.

"Of course I'm real," he said, his voice oddly toneless for a moment, before he rallied. "I'm your father."

* * *

_Ed sat curled up on the sofa, dosed with painkillers, waiting for Mustang to pick up._

_Winry shook her head from where she stood in the kitchen, and Ed mustered up a grin. He hated when she had to worry about him._

_"Hello?" _

_"Hey, Bastard," Ed said weakly, trying to keep his voice level. "Listen, I don't think I can come in today."_

_"Slacking off again, are we?" Mustang sounded rather tired himself, come to think of it._

_"Had a fucking crappy night," Ed grunted. "The kids were up half the night, and they're all home from school today. Some freak sickness. And," he yawned. "I had fucking weird dreams, and my ports are killing me."_

_A sigh crackled over the line. "Well, I suppose you can have a sick day. I'll make sure your work is waiting for when you're up to it."_

_"Thanks," Ed muttered sarcastically, and closed the phone. Tired, he leaned back on the sofa, rubbing at the ports again._

_Fuck, what a horrible dream. Something about his kids trying Human Transmutation, and giving an arm and a leg to fix them up._

_Lucky it was just a dream._


End file.
